


how we came together

by Avacyn



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 16:33:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9770534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avacyn/pseuds/Avacyn
Summary: Like running through the forest, he thinks, head resting on Eames' chest. And your feet are all cut up and your lungs are burning and someone is running after you and you're so, so happy. Breathless and laughing and your feet sting. And you know that he's going to catch you.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DreadPirateWestley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreadPirateWestley/gifts).



> Happy Valentine's day dreadpiratewestley! I'm so sorry this is late, I have no internet so I had to type it up again on my phone. Then when I finished and went up to double-check that it was in the right collection, I accidentally hit back and left the page. Then I cried, and re-retyped it.  
> I hope you enjoy it!! :D <3 <3 <3 love from Avacyn.
> 
> [prompt: roommates]

Love comes last, but swiftly, inevitably.

Eames moves in on a Friday afternoon, a hot Friday in August, and Arthur helps him carry his things to the sunniest room in the house; it's kind of strange, awkwardly-shaped, like two rooms pushed together at a right angle, but Eames' things fit into it perfectly. Dom knows him; they did a university paper together. Dom is pretty much always at Mal's, so it hardly even matters to him who they room with, but he says Eames is "probably pretty decent". The room's been empty a few months now. Arthur opens the windows - old-fashioned sash windows - to get some fresh air in, and Eames comes to stand next to him. "Thanks for the help," he says. He has a really nice English accent. "No problem," Arthur replies. They smile at each other, and the smile is genuine, but loaded with intent. They're the only ones there, but nonetheless, it feels conspiratorial.

It's like watching a river, Arthur thinks. Only going in one direction. Like watching the water move over the same rocks that it has for years and years, cool and clear. Tranquil. And the rocks are dark and smooth underneath. The water is calm.

The water is unstoppable.

Eames tastes like cigarettes; he kisses Arthur like they've been kissing for years, kisses him like it isn't foreplay but like this is the deepest, most intimate way their bodies can fit together, slick and hot and fervent; and Arthur takes and takes and takes, bites at Eames' lips, hungry, feeling lightheaded and breathless but so certain, full of lust and purpose.

Like thunder before a storm. Like humid air, like heavy rain.

Their lives fall together without thought or effort. Arthur sketches and buys new textbooks and reads the textbooks and goes to Ari's, cleans the kitchen and steals Dom's vodka, does Dom's washing, makes lasagna. Eames paints and watches documentaries, brews tea, goes out to give people home tattoos, comes back with donuts and marijuana. In between they are together; they smoke on the porch together, they cook together, they watch sci-fi movies on the sofa together. They flick each other with twisted-up teatowels, dancing around the kitchen like children. "You don't want to - ouch - fight with me, darling," Eames says. "I've got heavy artillery -" _Snap_. Arthur hits him in the stomach. "I know how to handle a weapon, Mr Eames, I'm - _ow_ \- I'm not afraid of you -" They don't stop til Eames accidentally hits Arthur in the face, and in the morning they both have little bruises all over their thighs and stomachs. They stay up all night playing horror-survival videogames and fall asleep together at dawn.

Like running through the forest, he thinks, head resting on Eames' chest. And your feet are all cut up and your lungs are burning and someone is running after you and you're so, so happy. Breathless and laughing and your feet sting. And you know that he's going to catch you.

They fuck for hours, like there's nothing else they were made for, and their bodies fit together perfectly. Eames has blunt, thick fingers, and strong thighs, and a thick cock. Arthur feels beautiful under his hands, golden, dangerous. They can't stop fucking staring at each other. "God, you look so good," Eames says, as Arthur licks at the head of his cock. "God, you're perfect," he whispers, as he fingers Arthur open, rubs his fingers slowly over Arthur's prostate. " _Fuck_ , you make me so hard," he says the next afternoon, Arthur in his lap, movie abandoned, pulling Arthur's shirt off over his head. " _Fuck - oh_ , you're going to - _fucking_ \- kill me," he gasps, as Arthur laughs, essentially actually bouncing on his cock, pleased with himself and short of breath. "Mmmm, oh, do you like that, darling," he asks, pinching Arthur's nipple, twisting it slowly, watching Arthur moan. "Oh, fuck yeah," he breathes, between their messy kisses, "god yes, darling, give it to me, yes -" as Arthur fucks him into the mattress, deep and hard.

Love comes last, but not unexpectedly. 

They've gone three hours with hardly any words; Arthur is lying on his back, bare-chested, while Eames kneels over him, needle in one latex-gloved hand, the other wiping away blood and ink with a balled-up tissue. The silence is peaceful; Arthur stares at the ceiling and thinks of everything and nothing, while the needle pierces his skin again and again; and then sometimes he looks at Eames instead, at the scar on his lip, the green-and-blue-and-grey of his eyes, the five o'clock shadow over his jaw.

Eames pulls back and blinks. "The outline's done," he says, still seeming a world away for a moment as he stares at Arthur's chest. Then he looks into Arthur's face. Arthur smiles up at him, expecting Eames to smile back, but Eames just blinks again, looking dazed; looking he's never seen Arthur before. "Eames?" Arthur asks. "Hello? You alright?"

"Yeah, I'm OK. I'm OK," Eames replies. He bends down and kisses Arthur softly, kisses him again. "I'm more than OK," he murmurs against Arthur's lips.

 

It's like falling asleep next to him, and waking up next to him, and falling asleep next to him again, today and tomorrow and the day after that, and always, and always, and always.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Writing this was like pulling teeth, I think because I'm trying to quit smoking and it's going fucking terribly.
> 
> Happy Valentine's day everyone!! Best fandom ever. Special thank you to teacuphuman.
> 
> Feedback really appreciated, I would love to know what you all thought.
> 
> Come find me on tumblr if you want, I post a lot of pics of naked guys who look like Arthur and Eames. avacynner.tumblr.com


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